


Reckoning

by Calibri



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-23 09:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6111533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calibri/pseuds/Calibri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frisk is nearing the end of their journey, and finds themselves at the judgment scene. But something went wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

So you finally made it. 

The end of your journey is at hand.

Now, you will be judged.

 

~~

 

Frisk stood before the archway leading to the Cathedral and took a moment to compose themselves. They were nearing the end now, and would soon have to face the King of all Monsters. Almost from the moment Frisk had entered the Underground they'd heard stories about him. To the monsters in the Ruins, he had become something of a legend, a memory from a distant past that had gradually distorted into a larger-than-life presence that wasn't talked about so much as heard in faint whispers. The vague outlines these rumors created took on a terrifying shape with Toriel's dire warnings, which painted him as a bloodthirsty brute.

It wasn't long after Frisk had left the Ruins that they'd heard more stories about the king, and they all clashed with what they'd heard before. Asgore was not someone who holed himself away in his castle and ruled from high above: he was very concerned with the ongoings of his people, and made it a point to personally meet and talk to them as often as he could. They, in turn, thought of him as a humble, gentle man, and a well-beloved leader. The notes he'd left around his house gave the impression that he wanted to make sure anyone who was looking for a place to stay or a fridge to raid was being welcomed with open arms, even if he wasn't personally there to make that gesture.

But there were some things everyone seemed to agree upon: that he's exceptionally powerful, and that he has already attained six human souls. This left little room to guess whether this kindness and generosity would be extended to humanity. In order to attain a soul, its owner has to die. And the fact that Asgore had taken up this responsibility only made him more popular among his people. He would bring them freedom, and justice, and eventually, safety.

Frisk found it difficult to imagine that the monsters they'd encountered were so easily able to reconcile the image of their King as a gentle giant with that of someone who would use his God-like powers to murder millions of people. And yet, every monster somehow did. What's more, it became deeply ingrained in their mythos. They told themselves this story over and over. It's what had kept them going for all these years.

Frisk was more than a little nervous, and more than a little scared. But they'd made it this far without hurting anyone and without hurting themselves (much), and more than anything else, they were determined to see this through. Frisk had all the time in the world to figure out how.

But first they had to pass through this place. Frisk closed their eyes (more than usual, anyway), and took a deep breath, and maybe they were imagining it, but in that moment it was as if the universe held its breath as well. As they passed the treshold it seemed as if time itself had skipped a beat. And Frisk was filled with determination.

The room was large and completely empty, save for the two rows of columns that lined a wide path in the middle like sentinels, and a box which use defied the laws of physics. It was located near enough the barrier that sunlight from the surface lanced through the stained-glass windows, and birds that had flown through the barrier and gotten themselves trapped in the Underground could be heard singing outside. The distant aroma of golden flowers filled the air. It smelled faintly like lemons.

In spite of this, the room was cold and the air had turned oppressive almost immediately, pushing the sunlight and birdsong into the background. Frisk was now staring at the sun-lined silhouette of someone who seemingly appeared out of nowhere and felt completely out of place in a place that almost demanded solemnity. Sans was someone who looked permanently amused with himself, as if he was in on a joke that the rest of the world wasn't, and he didn't seem to take anything seriously. He wore a sweater and hoodie to presumably protect himself against the Snowdin cold, with a pair of shorts and slippers because he presumably didn't care. Even now there was melting snow clinging to the fuzz on his footwear. The grin on his face never left or even faltered, not even now. And yet, the expression he wore was impossible to read.

“Heya. You've been busy, huh?”

 

~

 

Chara stood before the archway leading to the Cathedral. They were nearing the end now, and would soon have to face the King of all Monsters. They'd heard the stories that painted him as a kind man but a formidable opponent, and Chara knew better than to expect any more mercy than they'd shown the monsters foolish or unfortunate enough to cross their path. It didn't last long before Chara had learned just how fragile monsters were, and soon enough they could rip through them as if they were made of tissue paper. There had only been one real exception to this rule, but the brutal beat-down that followed had taught Chara an invaluable lesson: that they couldn't die.

By the time they'd gotten to New Home everyone had either died, or fled. Chara'd heard of the evacuation efforts, and the warnings that were sent to the King. And then, he found the knife. Chara couldn't wait to try it out, to see just how much damage they could inflict with a single strike, and a powerful opponent would make for a better target to try this out on than a weak one. Besides that, the challenging battles yielded some of the greatest rewards, and knowing that they couldn't really lose if they didn't want to really took the edge off. Undyne had given Chara a small taste of what was yet to come, but however long it would take, they were determined to see this through. Chara had all the time in the world.

A peculiar feeling overcame Chara as they passed the archway, as if the world itself momentarily paused, and then skipped a beat. The room Chara entered was large and empty, save for the two rows of columns that lined a wide path in the middle like sentinels, and a box which use defied the laws of physics. The sunlight that lanced through the stained-glass windows covered everything in a soft, warm sheen, and the air that had felt musty and thick throughout the entire Underground was suddenly easier to breathe. And now, Chara found themselves staring at the sun-lined silhouette of the smug, boring asshole who threatened their life earlier and then fled the scene. But XP is XP, and Chara wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

Sans stood before Frisk with an air of uncharacteristic seriousness. The small pin-pricks of light in his eyesockets had become more focused, and his grin seemed strained. “So. I've got a question for ya. Do you think even the worst person can change? That anyone can be a good person, if they just try?”

Frisk nodded. 

“You do, huh? Well, here's another question. Do you think someone like you is deserving of that chance?”

Frisk nodded a second time. 

This wasn't what Sans was apparently expecting. A brief look of surprise flit across his face, before he took on a more relaxed stance. 

“Hey, if you're gonna pick this moment to regret your actions, that works out just fine for me. Might be a little late for all the others, but you go on back and tell those piles of dust that you're very sorry, I'm sure they'll appreciate the gesture. However--” at this, Sans lowered his head at such an angle that the tiny dots in the back of his eyesockets were no longer visible, and his voice took on a threatening tone “--you show your face in here again and I'm gonna have to start taking my job a little more seriously. And as much as I don't like doing that, I have a feeling you're gonna like it even less.”

Frisk didn't move at first, but considered his words. Then, Frisk seemed to come to a conclusion, and sat down in a cross-legged position.

“I don't know what you're trying to accomplish here, but if you plan on doing nothing I have some bad news for you: you're looking at the reigning world champion of doing nothing. You'll get bored of it long before I do.”

Sans sat down opposite Frisk, with neither of them moving or saying anything for a while. Outside, the light from the setting sun had taken on an orange-red tint, and the birds were starting to quiet down. 

“You know, I was expecting you to be a bit more eager to fight me, like you were with all the others. Unless,” Sans tapped his chin with his finger a couple of times “-we already have?”

Frisk shook their head at this. 

“We haven't? Well, it's not like my memories survive all your little time travel shenanigans, so I'll just have to take your word for it. It's not like I can tell by just looking at your face. In fact, judging by your expression alone...”

Sans's voice trailed off and his expression changed, as if he was looking at Frisk for the first time. In a sense, he did. He turned his gaze from Frisk's face to their clothing, to their hands, clutching the rusted knife they'd retrieved from New Home. Somehow, things didn't add up. 

Despite the human sitting in front of him being a dead ringer of the one that had killed everything in its path, it looked nothing like them in a way Sans couldn't quite put his finger on. The shambling, barely-human-and-definitely-not-monster way the human had carried themselves with before was gone, so was the lifeless expression and vacant stare (despite Frisk's eyes not being visible). The dull glint on the rusted knife made it look like a gardening tool first and only a weapon second. It was as if all the malice had gone – upon closer examination Sans corrected himself – it was as if there hadn't been any malice in the first place. 

“Heh. It's weird that I didn't notice this before. You don't have a single speck of dust on you. You're not the same human as the one who hurt us, are you?”

 

~ 

 

“...'Course, that doesn't mean you're completely innocent and naive. Just that you kept a certain tenderness in your heart...”

Chara didn't much care for these formalities and preferred if monsters just started fighting right off the bat (or surrendered, for that matter). They weren't entirely sure what was going on here, but they had more than enough time to think of possibilities while this guy prattled on about love. Sans' special attack being him attempting to bore them to death felt like something he'd do. Or maybe this was Sans being sarcastic (although for some reason Chara had the feeling Sans wasn't the type of guy to find sarcasm very funny). Or maybe this was all part of the “ritual”, a long, boring speech that you couldn't skip past before things finally got serious. Or maybe it really was just cowardice. The only problem with all of these theories were that they didn't really hold up to scrutiny. But hey, you gotta do something to pass the time. 

“... Now. You're about to face the most difficult decision of your journey. If you fight Asgore, you can leave this place, but leave us trapped. If you choose not to fight, Asgore will take your soul and give us freedom, and declare war once more. I don't know what you will do, but I believe if anyone can do the right thing, it's you.”

Was this a joke? 

“We're all counting on you, kid. Good luck.”

And with that, Sans stepped back behind one of the pillars, disappearing from view, and, Chara found out moments later, the room. 

 

~ 

 

At Sans' request, Frisk had deposited the knife in the inter-dimensional box. Giving people the benefit of the doubt is one thing, letting your guard down was another thing entirely. 

Sans had a lukewarm attitude towards strangers at the best of times. If he'd met someone new it was usually through Papyrus, who saw a friend in every stranger and wasn't one to let an opportunity for friendship slip by. 

...Ever. 

But the Underground was a fairly small place when it came down to it, and after having lived here for a while, there just weren't many strangers left. In contrast to Papyrus' intense approach to friendship, Sans was easy-going and easily liked, and it always struck him as deeply unfair that people seemed to get along better with him than with his brother, who always tried so hard, and cared so much, when he didn't try or care at all. 

He had his own circle of bar buddies and shared a low-maintenance friendship with them, which was the best kind. There was only one person Sans knew that was more eager to invest his energy and enthousiasm and unconditional love in a stranger than the dogs of Snowdin, and ultimately, that had been what had gotten him killed. 

So this was pretty far from what anyone would consider “the best of times”, but a sense of obligation (towards his sense of duty, or this promise he once made, or his brother, or maybe it was all those things) made him give this kid some allowances. But he also had a feeling that the human may really be innocent, and in that case it'd be downright unfair to make them pay for someone else's crimes. He had a way of finding out whether this feeling was right, and he knew a shortcut to get there. 

The shortcut lead them to Snowdin, a picturesque little town that wasn't even a shadow of the Snowdin Frisk got to know and love. It wouldn't have been accurate to say that there was an air of dread hanging over the town. There was nothing, at all.

They walked around the house both the skeleton brothers lived in and entered the basement. Below, they found utter chaos. The floor was covered in reams of paper covered in red 9's until the printer responsible for the mess had run out of toner, at which point it had continued to frantically spit out blanks. It was now innocently puttering away, printing out some sequence or other as if nothing had happened. Next to the printer stood a machine covered in a sheet, which took up a large part of the room in the basement, and on the other side of the room was a desk with several drawers, with some blueprints lying on top of it. 

While Sans tended to the machine in the corner, Frisk decided to look around. When they opened one of the drawers, a small, fluffy white dog popped out and started to frantically bounce around the small room like a furry, hyperactive bouncing ball, turning the paper in its path into confetti. 

“Hey, there you are. I've been looking all over for you.”

Sans caught the dog mid-bounce and grabbed hold of it using one arm. He used the other to retrieve something from his hoodie's pockets, and after he pet the dog across its head a couple of times, there was a grey streak on the snow-white fur. 

“Papyrus'd never admit to it, but he loved that dog.”

The dog was released and commenced bouncing, reaching the stairs, bouncing up and, somehow, despite lacking hands, opened the door, bounced out, and closed the door behind him. 

Down below, Sans turned back to his machine. 

“This thing's been broken for a long while now, but some of its more basic functions still work. I've been using it to keep track of things. It can't predict what will happen, but it can show... different outcomes. And by the time you, or your evil twin, or whoever, arrived at the judgment hall there weren't many of those left. Now, I have a hunch--”

Sans continued tapping away at his machine and Frisk continued to look through the drawers. Most of them contained pieces of paper, notebooks, and blueprints written in a strange script, about subject matters that would've been incomprehensible even if the writing hadn't been. In one drawer, Frisk found a picture of Sans surrounded by people they didn't recognize. It struck Frisk that Sans looked genuinely happy and, for a brief moment, Frisk felt something akin to guilt for intruding on something that felt very private. Frisk quietly slid the picture back to the bottom of the drawer where they'd found it. Just then, Sans finished his work and walked out. 

“Hey, kid? Looks like I found your friend.”

 

~ 

 

Asgore had his back turned to Chara when they entered the throne room, and was humming a tune while tending to his flowers. The song he hummed to himself sounded oddly familiar to Chara. 

The floor of Asgore's throne room was covered almost completely in golden flowers. Here, too, sunlight from the surface managed to creep in, not through windows this time but through cracks in the ceiling, forming shadow patterns on the floor that almost gave the illusion of being in a forest. The smell of lemons had grown intense, and the light from the setting sun turned the golden flowers radiant. This was one of the most beautiful places in the Underground, and Chara couldn't care less.

“Oh, is someone there? Just a moment, I have almost finished watering these flowers.” 

He turned around to greet his visitor with the same upbeat “Howdy!” he reserved for everyone, his expession changing from welcoming to puzzled the moment he laid his eyes on the... person before him. 

“Erm, what kind of monster are you? I'm sorry, I cannot tell.”

Chara stepped forward, and as they did so, Asgore stepped back. 

“Well, we can always--”

The blade glinted a sharp, hungry red, and the hilt fit so perfectly in their hand that it was as if it was made specifically for them, as if it was made for this moment – 

“Now, now. There's no need to fight--”

Chara raised the knife – 

“Why not settle this over a nice cup of--”

– and struck.

That was all it took to defeat the King of all Monsters. Streams of dust cascaded down Asgore's body, his expression briefly horrified as he saw his body fall apart, before his face was gone too, and all there was left was a sad, grey heap on the place he'd stood, and a singular point of light floating above it. 

Chara had seen this once before with Toriel, and had been too surprised to react in time before the soul broke and shattered. But as he reached out their hand to Asgore's soul, a single, sad friendliness pellet drifted down and hit it square in the middle, shattering it in dozens of pieces. 

And there was his best friend. 

“Boy, you sure did a number on that old fool.” he said in his usual chipper tone. “I'm impressed! I thought you were going to hug him to death like you did with all the others, but you managed to grow a spine at the very last minute.”

Flowey had barely finished talking or Chara lunged forward, stabbing at the ground Flowey had been a mere moment ago.

“What do you think you're doing?”

Chara attacked again, but this time Flowey saw it coming. When he popped up again he was on the other side of the room, near the entrance.

“You're a sick freak, you know that?” he said, and disappeared underground, and didn't reappear this time. 

Behind the throne room was the barrier, and Chara could cross it to never return if they wanted to. Instead, they walked back to the entrance of the throne room, passed the dark stone arch looming overhead, into the brave new world that lay before them.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of scotchtapeofficial's Swaptale AU.


End file.
